


Pearls, Rings and other Cat Things

by Asxn



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fantasy, Home Schooled, Model, Modelling, Multi, Mystery, fashion - Freeform, homeschooled, story swap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-02-10 18:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18666256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asxn/pseuds/Asxn
Summary: A year has passed since the disappearance of Adrien Agreste's mother, leading to his father's own avoidance from the media and Adrien feeling more trapped than ever before. Now, fate has given him the chance to find his mother again, that is, if he's willing to make some unfurtunate sacrifices that have him feline like he can no longe recognise his own refurlection.Enough with the cat puns, he needs to fix this mess before its too late.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to post this fic I've been woking on for fun. Sort of in its drafting phase but I doubt I'll have the time to go back and fix anything as of lately. Very much an AU that I'm finding hard to properly explain but I'm sure it will speak for itself. Hope you enjoy, or dont, do what you will.
> 
> Fair waning; I specialise in crack fics so don't expect a perfect time, just a fun time.  
> Feel free to follow me on tumblr for art and other content https://ashleeritson.tumblr.com/ and my twitter https://twitter.com/aritsxn  
> Ash x

18.00, Monday evening, the disappearance of Emilie Agreste was officially announced by her husband, Mister Gabriel Agreste. The fashion designer behind the microphone and flashing lights asked for privacy during his family's trying time. His face stayed neutral throughout the announcement. “Mister Agreste has no more to say on the matter” his assistant straightened the microphone in her direction, guards allowing her boss make his way off stage. The crowd of reporters roared, cameras shoving their way forward to get, what they were unaware would be, their final glimpse of the designer before his own disappearance from the public eye.

 

News articles, gossip magazines and journalists flocked over, frothing over the new mystery of France. “I heard she disowned her family” the gossip ‘journalist’ exclaimed to her co-host “She went insane and ran away.” Theories developed online, forums updating daily;

 

 

  * __Gabriel murdered her. He's a rich man and could get away with anything he wanted. I mean, have you ever seen him smile?__


  * _Isn't it suspicious that he's refused to make any more public appearances?_


  * _Recent records show Emilie was in and out of the hospital often before she vanished._



 

 

“Mister Gabriel Agreste, founder of the Agreste fashion line has stated he has no further comments on the location of actress, Emilie Agreste. Documents say she was in ill condition and needs to be home immediately. Please contact the police if you know any more information around her disappearance.”

 

Gabriel turned off the tv, it was giving him a migraine and he had no interest in further discussion surrounding his wife. The man still had a business to take care of and a family to feed, he had no time for theories and fake news. The police continued investigation behind closed doors and that information was for his eyes and the departments eyes only.

 

The phone rang as it had often done since the announcement.

“Its channel 4, sir. They'd like an interview on the Emilie case.” His assistant, Nathalie, held the phone on hold. “The usual?”

Agreste nod, his face pressing deep into the palms of his hands. He knew further investigation was inevitable, that it would eventually be taken to the public as his image was now on the line. However, he'd prefer the media would latch onto some teen celebrity gossip and leave him alone. For once he wished the overly dramatic Bourgeois family would make headlines again, news travelled fast when it came to his family but it simply wasn't fast enough to leave. “Channel 4 would have to wait. Tell them I have no further comment on the matter than what I'd already announced. Our family is in mourning for Christ's sake, let us have some peace.” his voice bellowed in frustration, throwing his desk chair across the room.

 

It was the end of fashion week, the height of his year as a fashion designer. An argument left frustration within the Agreste household after a last minute call from Emilie’s manager had her running out the door to reshoot a missing scene in her film, unable to stay by to support Gabriel’s designs. Though it wasn't the designs that caused the uproar, rather Emilie’s growing illness that worried her husband, her body had become more fragile than it once was, her cough continuing to grow worse with the days. Emilie was the nurturing type who put her family first, for their sake she'd often hide how bad her condition had become as to not worry them. The media had no clue at the time, but Gabriel could tell just from the touch of her cold fingers how ill she'd grown. He argued that she needed to stay by his side and see their son, Adrien, graduate from childrenswear in his first real men's fashion week walk.

“I’m incredibly disappointed that I can't see, but in your hands, I know he will do wonderfully. Adrien is an Agreste after all, he's your son.”

With a final kiss on Gabriel's cheek, Emilie wished him luck, promising to call if she felt the slighted bit worse, and that was the last he saw of her.

 

Gabriel thought of how proud his wife would be to have seen their son in his design, Blond hair brushed back and Green eyes glimmering in the stage lights. Adrien truly did take after his mother and the cameras loved him. Gabriel remembered how pleased he was with himself, his choice to experiment on the trouser seam was a success, such a unique detail that had the audience in awe. But of course they were in awe, this was an original Gabriel Agreste design modelled buy his own blood, the son of Paris’ most adored actress and fashion designer, how could the concept ever disappoint? Gabriel knew his choice was genius, _he_ was a genius and his son was going to take over as the face of Paris one day.

 

That night, Emilie never returned to their home. Gabriel's memory had become foggy from this point onward, he called again and again but to no avail, his wife never picked up. Her manager lost contact and his wife hadn't been seen since she'd left the set, not even the hospital knew of her whereabouts.

Gabriel couldn't explain the panic he was in, for a man of his brand, he was to keep his head up and maintain his image. Something he found harder to do with each call knowing his ill wife was out there. He knew she shouldn't have left, he warned her.

 

Eventually the police had become involved, as became ritual to visit the same time every day for the first week, then once a week every Wednesday evening to track phones and find any further evidence. It wasn't too long until news spread and the media wanted their grubby hands on the Agreste family name. Their timing was an inconvenience, the case was interfering with Gabriel's work and it was going nowhere. How could he continue his line under this stress.

 

Gabriel furrowed his brow, tossing the magazines across the table. “Nathalie, what is this?”

“Sir, news will die down shortly.”

“Not short enough. My son should be on that cover alone, not the three of us and the story of a crime case revolving around my family advertised on page 5.”

The Agreste name was supposed to be nothing but impressive, him, his wife and son were no stranger to present the covers of magazines. They were placed as the top business family of Paris not too long ago and were practically royalty. The print of their family portrait was almost inescapable with discussion on his family's handmade success less than a month ago. Hell, his wife alone brought the broach back on trend. But now, for Gabriel to see Emilie and the rest of his family surrounded by so much negative coverage, he was furious and lost for a response.

 

However, the final straw and what set him off the furthest was the sunday paper that poorly printed his candid image angrily throwing one of his designer dresses at a young model. Admittedly, not one of his best moments, with the otherwise comically bad headline, had it not been scrutinizing his image; ‘ **Silent but Deadly?** ’

His wife was missing, how dare he be put under suspicion, how dare they question his ability as a family man and how dare they mock his image like this.

 

“I'm suing all of them” Gabriel muttered. “its mischaracterisation, they're taking my image out of context.”

“It will die soon sir-”

“It's blatant lies.” he caught his anger, brushing his hair back as attempt to maintain the cool he'd long since lost.

“If you react legally, Paris will put you under further suspicion.”

“Nathalie, make note. I need my lawyers on the phone. I want no further discussion surrounding Emilie to take place in any future interviews with me or my son. It is completely off limits, we are a business and shall only answer as a business. Adrien will continue his shoot tomorrow, I want you to call and ensure that cosmetic artist of Vincent's is of experience, I can't stand the bags forming under my son's eyes. We need that shoot to be so good it makes paris forget there could ever be any suspicious activity in my family.”

“Yes sir.”

“Also, I'd like that stray cat in our front yard gone, it's been driving me crazy since Emilie left and my sons become too friendly with it. You know I feel about cats.”

“I'll call pest control immediately, sir.”

 

For the coming year, despite no word from the Agreste family, there was only one question on the mind of France: What happened to the well beloved A-list actress and face to represent all that was well in Paris, Madame Emilie Agreste?


	2. Storms, Tides And Pearls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of Adrien Agreste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting chapter 2 now as I felt leaving at the prologue was a little mean, happy reading.

“Oh come on now Adrikins.”  
The sun sat high, autumn leaves had began to fall and the smell of english tea lingered over the balcony of the Mayor's home, or what was left of the smell had Chloé not sprayed her new Agreste x Dior perfume so vigorously on her wrists.  
Adrien laughed nervously at the girl with the blonde ponytail wearing a suitable fall yellow, “Chloé, could you not call me that. It's embarrassing.”  
“Just open it,” she ignored, forcing the small box into his chest. “open it or I will.”  
“Okay, okay.” he caught the velvet red box, opening the lid. “Wow! They’re beautiful Chloé, but what would I do with Diamond earrings?”  
“They're not for you silly, they're for me. A present from daddy! Aren't they so beautiful? I wanted you to see them first, before anyone else.”  
“They'll look good on you.”  
“I know.”  
Chloé grabbed the box back from his hands, replacing her current pearls with the new diamonds, they sparkled brightly in the sunlight. “I don't know what to do with those crummy pearls now, they look simply ridiculous in comparison.”  
“I think they're still beautiful, didn't your father buy them for you too?”  
“Yea, when I was 14. I'm not a kid anymore Adrikins.”  
“You're 15.”  
“And a whole year more fashion forward. Jeez, for a model, you're so behind on trends.”  
Adrien bit his tongue as to hold back commenting on her blouse that was released over two seasons ago. “I guess you're right Chloé, maybe I do need to brush up on what's fashionable.”

He took a sip from his teacup, peering over the magazines poorly hidden under a vase of freshly cut white lilies. The flowers were perfectly in season, just as Chloé liked them. Big familiar green eyes stared at him accompanied by long blonde hair printed under a barcode and when Chloé followed his eyes she pressed her lips together in worry “I tried hiding them before you came, I didn't realise it had been a year...”  
“Chloé, you don't have to hide magazines from me, I'm fine.”  
“But aren't you upset that she left you? If I were you I'd never want to see her mug again.”  
“She didn't leave me. My mother wouldn't just leave me, she'll be back.”  
Chloé gazed upon him with pity. From as much as what her own mother, a dear friend to the late Emilie, had told her; Emilie was as good as dead. “maybe...” she trailed off, pouring hot water into her tea cup.

Stirring the golden spoon as it clinked against the ceramic pattern on the edge, she decided to change the subject “Anyway, enough about that. I need to tell you about what that Dupain-Cheng girl did to me at school today.” her pitch heightened in disgust as she let the girls name escape her lips like it was a privilege. “She was simply out of manner, spilled water all over me! What an absolute klutz, not to mention the other day when her and that new girl put gum on my seat.”  
“On purpose?” His eyes widened.  
“Its Marinette, of course it was on purpose. She’s a menace to the school. Probably jealous of my life, being the baker's daughter and all. Not to mention the obviously fake pearls in her ears. Didn't she hear pearls were out of style?”  
“Oh, Is she the daughter to the Dupain-Cheng patisserie? I used to love their macarons.”  
“Shame their daughters a bitch. Sugar makes you fat anyway. Silly Adrien, you know you only like it because you're not allowed to have it.”  
Adrien sighed. “I'd love to live in a bakery.”  
“Adrikins, what did I just say? Their daughters a bitch. I’d hate to be brought up in such an ill mannered environment as that, she'll end up fat with all that bread. Do you know how many times she's walked into class with flour on her clothes? It's disgusting! You're so lucky, being homeschooled and all. You don't have to face jealous people like her.”  
Adrien frowned, he worked in an industry that his father practically ran, of course he faced vicious people almost daily, critics loved to hate him.

Chloé placed her manicured hand on his, which he lightly pushed away as to not offend her. Checking the time, his teacup clinked, finding its place on the glass table. “Its past noon Chloé. You know the drill, I have to practice my piano.”  
“Oh please stay, I'm sure your father wouldn't mind. Just one night with the Bourgeois, for me? You could play your ridiculous little piano all you want, right here.”  
“You know how my father is. Besides, tonight he wants me to perform my final piece for him and if I flunk this, you and I can't have any more tea. I'm pushing it as is and need to warm up.”  
“Your father is a no good stick in the mud.”  
“He's my stick in the mud.” he placed his napkin down “I promise I'll make more time next week. Same day as usual?”  
Chloé’s pale glazed lip pouted. “Ok, fine. Have fun with your piano thing or whatever. Not like I had water dumped on me today or anything.”  
“If I ever meet the Dupain girl that's bullying you, I'll tell her to leave you alone.”  
“If you see an ugly looking klutz with pigtails and dirty pants, that's her. End her life.”  
Adrien sighed with great understanding toward his childhood friend, bowing in her direction. “Yes your royal highness” before making his way toward the front door. “à plus!”

His father was tense, despite his characteristically neutral expression, his hand gripped tightly at the cane in his hand. He’d obviously seen the news discussing the anniversary of his wife's disappearance. Adrien held his breath waiting for a response, each month he felt their relationship stray further apart and he never knew what to expect from his father anymore.

“Your performance could do better. Did I detect a note change?”  
“It's how mother used to play it to me. I thought-”  
Gabriel raised his hand to silence his son. “Yes, I realise that. However, whatever you thought; it was wrong.”  
“I could play it again, the way you wish, father.” he pressed his fingers lightly against the keys before he was cut off once more.  
“No need. I've heard enough, it would be a waste of time.”  
Adrien nodded silently, watching his father make his way out the room, the tap of his cane echoed against the reflective floor. “I'll be in my office. Call on Nathalie if you need me.”  
Adrien nodded again, knowing well enough his father would be too busy doing God knows what to answer his call if he even felt the desire to ever try.

Once his bedroom door had closed, Adrien let out a deep breath of air. He was relieved the session had gone well, at least, by Agreste standards. He could write an entirely new dictionary translating plain french into new-age Agreste, footnotes and all.  
Gabriel had always been a colder man. However, in the past year he'd only become more closed off, refusing to leave their gated home and limiting his son’s freedom too. Adrien looked out over the view of paris from his bedroom window, the city he could no longer explore without a bodyguard by his side. He rest his arms over the windowsill, watching the sun set so gorgeously over the autumn tinted rooftops, he could see the bakery not too far away.

Paws pitter pattered over the gate, a pale ginger cat sat, grooming at its fur. Adrien stared down at it, feeling guilty to intrude on its bath. Gazing both ways before he softly flicked his fingers together toward the cat “minou-minou” he repeated quietly, attempting to gain its attention. “minou-minou-minou” he tried once more, his voice growing louder. The cat stayed sat and looked up at him, flicking its tail from side to side. “Hey kitty. Come here kitty.” He clapped. The cat maintained its seat on the gate. It’s blue eyes stared, pupils thinning in disinterest, then it turned around and ran away down the street.  
Adrien sighed “stupid cat.” it was probably for the best since any stray animal his father found in their yard was a call to animal control.

It was a ridiculous thought to cross his mind and he knew that, but Adrien was jealous of the cat. Not a care in the world but to lick his tail and run aimlessly through the streets of Paris, able to stretch its legs and just enjoy life in the sunshine. That cat was probably better loved than Adrien could ever be, he stretched his own aching legs.

He swore puberty wanted him dead with the amount of pain that shot through his calves lately. Despite the good news for the future of his modelling career, Adrien had been suffering through yet another growth spurt. He placed his hand behind his leg and fell to stretch into a lunge, it felt like his bones would snap. Truly, a body shouldn't grow as much as his had in the last 6 months. His father wasn't too pleased either, swearing he wasn't going to adjust another design to his son's shoulders until they stopped growing, and so, his modelling work had slowed down besides the occasional editorial shoot. As result, Adrien had been home more than usual, it was practically a prison. He'd never thought he missed going to work but it was his only way out, other than his routine visit to the Bourgeois household every week. His home was sterile and felt unlived in, he dreaded the days studying from his unnecessarily large bedroom of gifts his father had obviously used as way to replace his love.

“Adrien, you have a busy day tomorrow. Lights out.” Nathalie's voice played over the intercom.  
_Not even worthy enough to talk to me in person_ , he scrunched up his nose, kicking his aching leg into the corner of his bed. “I swear to God, I was only born to make money for this stupid brand.” he fell face first into his pillow and screamed loudly until he was overcome by his own exhaustion, too tired to turn around and falling soundly asleep in his clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : )))))


	3. The Baker's Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette offered to help her parents by catering for a photo shoot, alone. Somehow becoming more help than just the bringer of food, she also becomes the bringer of bad news, bursting Adrien's bubble of beliefs after he stands up for his friend and what he believed was right. Was Marinette telling the truth and should Adrien trust her?

Tom and Sabine's Boulangerie Patisserie sat quietly in its early hours, its white bricks glowed gold against the morning sun that hit perfectly toward the 21st arrondissement of Paris. Every morning, 7:00 on the dot, the Dupain-Chengs opened their doors to the parisian public.

 

The daughter to Tom and Sabine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, slept in the top floor of their home, sleeping in on weekends had become the usual routine for the daughter of Paris’ most beloved bread bakers, and Marinette was more than aware of her family's growing popularity. Their home had been visited by guests of all backgrounds after all, even a few celebrities that have graciously given their autographs and thanks to her family. 

 

Marinette’s most exciting encounter being rock star, Jagged Stone, who whilst eating a croissant, commented on Marinette's “cool shirt” which left her speechlessly stumbling over her words, almost knocking the croissant out of the rockstar’s hand. When her mother proudly stated that her daughter had made the shirt herself, Stone gasped and let out an enthusiastic “Rock on!” dropping his croissant in his own excitement instead. It was a memory which Marinette would forever keep in her heart. And just in case she ever did forget, it was also written in her diary, and on the poster he signed, and the pinterest board she titled “Rock On!”... also in the literal heart shaped locket she made. Perhaps she had a problem but at least Marinette was the first person to admit she had a problem. She was a teenage girl and it truly was the first and only time she'd ever been starstruck, she had her reason to obsess. Come on, it was  _ the _ Jagged Stone.

 

Marinette awoke at her desk, sunlight glaring in her eyes and her phone buzzing loudly under her nose. Looking through the clutter of fabric that lay before her, she acknowledged the project she'd started the night before and will probably never touch again, most likely in favour of starting another design that she'd also never finish. She was a busy girl full of ideas and barely the time to complete them.

 

Marinette's focus lay upon her buzzing phone, almost confused by her friend’s excited text. Either Alya was up unreasonably early for the weekend or she never slept at all.

 

**_Alya:_ ** _ THE adrien agreste? _

**_Alya:_ ** _ like hot fashion model son of fashion royalty with a mysterious family disappearance _

**_Alya:_ ** _ THAT agreste? _

 

It took her a moment to process the text, still half asleep. Then she jumped, remembering she had promised to cater for her parents that day. She recalled her dad fondly telling her how happy he was to cater for the young model. That in all his years running their bakery, of all the people he'd ever met, Emilie Agreste was the most memorable. Both her parents expressed their mutual sadness over the loss of such a bright young woman.

 

**_Marinette:_ ** _ Im just catering his shoot. Seriously Alya, hes no Gabriel. Ive catered enough models now to tell you they never even look at our food, Im sure hes no different. I dont understand why he has to be such a big deal. _

**_Alya_ ** _ : :/ _ _   
_ **_Alya:_ ** _ I dont care if he eats your cakes or not. more for us. not to mention him and chloé are practically dating so why would i care for the guy himself. even if he is cute. _

**_Alya:_ ** _ what im saying is that his mother disappeared and NO ONE has seen her in over a year. thats suspicious and i want to know what the hell happened. >: ) _

 

Of course Alya wanted to know about Emilie's disappearance, all of France wanted to know. Marinette hasn’t met a single person that didn't want to talk about it, everyone was grabbing to as little information as they could, no matter how far fetched the stories began to sound. However, Marinette couldn't deny, the mystery had her searching google a few times late into the night. She just wondered how after so long, the world was still so wrapped up around a story with no more leads.

 

But, of course, if anyone could uncover that mystery, it would probably be Alya. The girl was a genius when it came to researching new information, she was a born reporter, both the good and bad cop. What Alya was doing writing in theory forums instead of being paid to write for a real paper, Marinette had no clue. Alya could probably get Gabriel Agreste himself to admit to murder if she wanted.

 

Though, Marinette was unsure how to feel about the rumour of the designer murdering his wife. He was incredible, truly one of the greatest fashion designers in the modern fashion world and she looked up to him dearly. It would be a shame with his talent and the name he'd made for himself in the industry to be a killer. Despite the rumours, Marinette knew she'd probably lose her mind if she ever met the man in person. He changed everything she knew about fashion and she never wanted to believe he was capable of something so horrible. How could Marinette ever support a murderer?

 

A knock came from downstairs. “Marinette, are you up dear?” Sabine's voice called as her daughter began frantically looked around for a hair tie. “can you help with packing the pastries?”

Marinette threw her hair into a bun, it was out of the ordinary but with a quick brush of her bangs and wiping away the smudged mascara from her under eyes, she decided it would do. “yes maman, I'm coming!”

 

**_Marinette_ ** _ : Sorry Alya, gtg _

**_Marinette_ ** _ : I doubt I will but if I find out anything, Ill tell you all about it. _

**_Alya:_ ** _ girl, you better! _

 

13:00, Of course she was late. Marinette swore she was one of the most unlucky girls in the world.

“These things happen Mari, I'm sure they could hold on another half hour. The hungrier they are, the more they eat.” Tom reassured from the wheel.

“It's all my fault papa, I can't believe I dropped a whole box.”

Tom leaned back in his seat “you meant well, why, one time I dropped two dozen pastries. I just tried again, and you know what? The new batch was much tastier, looked prettier too. You live, you make mistakes and you learn. I promise you Mari, there's nothing your old man can't fix. Break as much as you wan't, I'll be there.” 

Marinette nodded “thanks papa.” checking on the boxes in the back.

 

“are you sure you'll be fine alone today?”

Marinette nodded. “I've helped you cater so often now, I'm practically an expert. Go home and help maman with the bakery, she'll need it more than me.”

“that's my girl.” Tom sighed “you're growing too fast, soon you'll be as tall as me.”

Marinette felt a shiver make its way down her spine, “don't worry Papa, I highly doubt I'll grow any taller.” it was more of a prayer on her part, she wished to never be blessed, or cursed, with the misfortunate height of her father. Marinette was already such a clumsy person, the extra height would only make her situation worse.

  
  


The photographer huffed, fixing the rows of flowers that sat up before an infinity backdrop, mumbling in frustration to the model in cream and gold. With a shy knock on the wall, Marinette made her way in, the photographer barely noticing her, rather turning around to set up his camera. “oh!” he exclaimed at a stop, gazing upon the boxed goods Marinette had begun to set up. “There you are, you're lucky were behind on schedule.” he grumbled “Don’t put those there!”

 

Marinette ducked her head into her shoulders in a silent apology. The photographer made his way over, ordering Marinette where and where not to place the food, his thinning ponytail swayed with his eccentric gestures. Marinette, in her confusion, fumbled around to reorganise the boxes as the photographer called everyone over for lunch. 

 

Marinette let her gaze wander over the room for a moment. A model sitting amongst flowers rest his head back as a woman brushed her fingers through his hair, spraying what could only be considered a poisonous amount of hair spray. Marinette snorted as to hold back giggling once her view made a full view over the room and planted directly on the bald spot that began to reveal itself on the scalp of the photographer's head, he'd done a terrible job combing over what little hair he had left.    
  


A young makeup artist asked Marinette about the fillings of each pastry, to which she attempted to answer as best as she could, whilst still under the hypnotic spell of the bald spot. She thanked god when the photographer disappeared to yell at whatever new item caught his disinterest, excited to freely gaze upon the rest of the room.

 

Being the baker's daughter had its perks, catering gave her a view of a world she’d only hear about in the media. From ballroom events and celebrity interviews to weddings. But what she loved most was seeing the fashion world that she always dreamed to be part of, to one day see her own designs on the same rack across the room and inspire others the way fashion inspired her.

 

Marinette found herself zoned out, her blue eyes curious, dreamily looking at the rack of clothes that stood by the mirror. Gold, white and deep reds lined up neatly on hangers and Marinette so badly wanted to take a closer look at what appeared to be a detailed floral embroidery. Well, not so much look but rather to touch. She wanted to touch the detailed embroidery and turn the coat inside out to see every stitch through the fabric. The golden stitching called to her and she could instantly recognise the catholic elements in the designs from the history books she’d read in class not too long ago. She wanted to know what the high quality fabric felt like, knowing damn well it was completely off limits to her clumsy bakers hands.

  
The hairsprayed model placed his coat neatly amongst the other items and stared longingly toward that food laid out before him. Marinette recognised from an instant who the model was, wondering if it was possible to look more airbrushed in person than in a catalogue. Because that's what Adrien Agreste was, and it made her almost uncomfortable to see someone lean so closely toward the uncanny valley with his photoshopped skin.

“I shouldn't” he spoke to her in his approach “but what my father doesn't know won’t kill him.” he winked.

Marinette spat.  _ No _ , she thought,  _ it won't kill him but he might kill you. _

Adrien looked up, pastry halfway to his mouth. “what's so funny?” he asked, face close enough for Marinette to see how much make up was caked over his face.

She couldn't just tell him that she had the thought of her favourite fashion designer killing his son, or that the thought had made her laugh like a sadist. “Nothing,” she lingered, his mascara sat thick on his eyelashes and she wondered what his skin looked like beyond the foundation “You just look frosted enough to be on display at my parent’s bakery.”

Adrien laughed, surprising himself with a snort “Yea, it's a lot for a ‘nude’ look” he airquoted. “but the photos look amazing.”

 

Marinette hummed in distraction, the embroidery on Adrien’s collar glimmering in her gaze. He nervously took a bite of the pastry, eyeing around unsure of what she was looking at but nervous that whatever it was, it was part of him. It was the first time he’d ever second guessed if he’d put on deodorant before heading out and the thought made him nervous. “Who designed these?” Marinette finally voiced in awe. “They're gorgeous.” She couldn't hold herself back from touching the thread, lightly brushing her fingers against the golden leaves. Adrien’s throat swallowed and she pulled herself back instantly, remembering there was a person wearing the design. Her face was hot and she wanted to die, God, it wasn’t just a person, it was a very famous person with a net worth so high she felt she needed to pay (and never afford) to simply be in his presence.

“Audrey Bourgeois, she’s a close friend to my family.” Adrien seemed to flaunt proudly. His nerves calming once she’d shown interest in his shirt, rather than his possible stench which he did just remember, should be under control thanks to Lynx Africa. Regaining his confidence, he leaned forward “are you a fan?”

“oh yes, she has such an eye for detail.” Marinette exclaimed, side eyeing the thought of the designer also being the mother to the infamous Chloé Bourgeois. “I'd love to know her design process, seeing her work in person is inspiring.”

Adrien didn’t want to mention the many Audrey breakdowns he’d seen, it wasn’t his place and the girl before him seemed too happily engaged in the design to have her ideal Audrey tainted. He smiled as she let herself look at the shirt once more, this time within a reasonable distance.

  
A loud voice boomed, catching Marinette off guard as it called “you girl”. Adrien’s eyes widened in Marinette's direction and she pointed a finger to her face mouthing “me?”   
“Yes, you girl. Get over here.” The photographer called. Marinette wondered if he was always angry or it was just his voice. Either way, it made her nervous enough to reach for her pigtails for comfort, pigtails that were replaced with a bun. She placed her hands back down awkwardly as though she hadn't just grasped the air by her ears and when she took a step forward, she stumbled over her feet and fell, shutting her eyes tight.

 

To her surprise, she hadn’t fallen head first into the floorboards like she usually would, rather a tight grip held onto her arm. She looked up at Adrien who pulled her back on her feet, his voice speaking somewhere along the lines of “be careful” had she not been so shocked from the fall to properly hear him. She fumbled and brushed at her clothes like they were dirty “Happens all the time. Clumsy- I’m. God that's so embarrassing. Pigtails- I- you- thanks…” her body language stiff as she pointed away “I go there now. Bye.” 

Adrien laughed once he'd translated her word vomit, watching the funny girl walk off. Pastry crumbs fell and he looked down at the box.

"Dupain-Cheng Patisserie" he read out loud with a furrowed brow, whipping his head back up to the bunned girl. 

 

Marinette somehow found herself staying longer than intended, the photographer wrapped her in as free help and she couldn't argue against his demanding personality. Not to say she was upset to watch his creative process and study the makeup artist smearing her hands on Adrien's face. It was everything the internet warned her against, Adrien's face warped with her hands roughly dragging his skin as though brushes were illegal.

 

Despite their earlier conversation, Marinette found Adrien giving her a look of distaste throughout the shoot. Whilst she held a light to his left, he raised his chin with a scoff and turned to face the camera, and more than once did his feline eyes squint in thought, somehow appearing both confused and judgemental over anything Marinette did. She wanted to throw the light at him and destroy his perfectly contoured face. Did he suddenly think he was better than her now that she was the help? She wondered if she was perhaps seeing things, that he preferred method acting when on set. However, that thought died the moment they were packing up set and he approached her with full intention to discuss the thoughts he'd let race his mind throughout the shoot.

 

"You know, I was expecting you to be wearing pigtails" Adrien commented. “Marinette.” Marinette picked up a bouquet of flowers and turned in his direction with a questioning hum.

Adrien breathed in, as though thinking through what he wanted to say one last time, his eyes meeting the pearls in her ears. "You're a nice girl, and that's why I'm struggling to understand why you do what you do but…" he crossed his arms "could you stop bullying Chloé?"

Marinette fumbled, dropping the bouquet then caught it again, partnered with the arms of Adrien also catching the flowers. She pulled herself up, ensuring she could handle it on her own. "Bullying? You think- Me- bully Chloé? Chloé Bourgeois?" She almost laughed had Adrien's face not glared at her so seriously. She pulled herself up once more, bouncing the bouquet in a more comfortable position. "You think I'm bullying Chloé?"

"What else would you call it?"

"... Self defense?"

Adrien scrunched up his nose, his makeup cracking lightly. "That's terrible. And I'm sure you think putting gum on someone's seat counts as self defence also?"

Marinette was stunned. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "I don't know what to tell you, Chloé put the gum there herself."

"Why would she do that?"

"You're friends with Chloé, right?" Marinette said as though making an obvious statement. Adrien lifts his brow in response, oblivious to whatever Marinette was trying to say and waiting for her to continue. "I'm not bullying her, she's bullying me! She's been bullying me for years."

Adrien stopped in thought. "I've known Chloé since I was a little kid…" his hand brushed behind his neck, almost too aware of how stiff his hair was. "I know she's not perfect, shes.. she's my only friend. She's not a bully."

"Well, if your only friend wasn't a bully, I'd like to know what you'd say she's doing when shes terrorising the class with her insults?"

Adrien stood still for a moment, maybe he didn't know enough about this situation he'd regrettably rammed himself into, head first. But it was too late for him to back down, he knew what was right and defending his friend was what should be the most important thing for him to do.

"Ok, I get it. Good job. She's got you in on it, very funny. I didn't realise she'd stoop low enough to get someone other than Sabrina in on her taunting." She sighed "Sure! Go find the son to Marinette's favourite fashion designer and have him call you a bully. Alright, ok, funny. You're all as bad as each other!" Her eyes glimmered, holding back a tear under knot brows.

 

Before Adrien could think, she spun on her feet and stomped away to resume cleaning up. Adrien wanted to believe Chloé with all his heart, as he said, she was his only friend. He didn't want to throw her under the bus, he wanted to believe her but the expression he saw on Marinette's face hit him deep. He damned his easily persuaded personality. Straightening his back and adjusting his shirt to his body he made up his mind; Chloé wouldn't lie to him, she was his friend and he was going to trust her no matter how good of an act some girl he'd just met played.

 

-

 

**_Marinette_ ** _ : I can NOT believe the NERVE of Chloé _

**_Alya_ ** _ : : o ? _

**_Marinette:_ ** _ Remember when Chloé put gum on my seat _

**_Alya_ ** _ : girl how could i not ill never forget her face when she fell into her own trap _

**_Marinette_ ** _ : well madame gum sitter seems to think everyone else is the problem _

**_Alya:_ ** _ madame gum sitter? _

**_Marinette_ ** _ : Look _ _   
_ **_Marinette_ ** _ : Im too mad to think of  a better insult _

**_Marinette_ ** _ : What I’m saying is her teen supermodel boyfriend just accused me for bullying her _

**_Marinette:_ ** _ Did you know that I was apparently the one to put gum on HER seat? Because I didnt know that _

**_Alya:_ ** _ ooft adrien agreste accused you of being a bully? _ _   
_ **_Marinette_ ** _ : I GUESS SO? _

**_Alya_ ** _ : thats wild. thats too good. _

**_Alya:_ ** _ what did you say??????? _

**_Marinette_ ** _ : I told him that Chloé was a horrible person _

**_Alya:_ ** _ duh _

**_Marinette_ ** _ : And how cruel they both are _

**_Alya:_ ** _ FUCK YEA _ _   
_ **_Marinette_ ** _ : Ngl I was really upset _

**_Alya:_ ** _ girl, thats reasonable. daddys boy needs to learn his place _ _   
_ **_Marinette_ ** _ : Its been a weird day Alya. The type of weird where I feel like I'm having a bad dream. Could I stay at yours tonight? Its easier to talk about it all in person. _

**_Alya:_ ** _ girl its not everyday a famous supermodel bad mouths you, the twins are up but you know my parents wont mind as long as you bring them some macarons _ _   
_ **_Alya:_ ** _ but fr dont think im not on his gossip forum about to drop a sicc addition _

**_Marinette_ ** _ : Alya dont. He’ll think its from me _

**_Alya:_ ** _ gossip forums are sacred spaces mari. celebrities aren’t allowed to read them _ _   
_ **_Marinette_ ** _ : Says who? _

**_Alya:_ ** _ last time clara nightingale showed her face on her own forum she was blocked hard, trust me when i say it was a massacre. you obviously dont read enough gossip to understand the sacred commandments of online foruming but i appreciate your level of purity _ _   
_ **_Marinette_ ** _ : You know I dont like gossip _

**_Alya_ ** _ : no 1. you probably havent seen anything juicy yet _

**_Alya:_ ** _ no 2. everyone likes a bit of gossip _

**_Alya:_ ** _ and 3. i prefer to call it research. gossip has a bad rep. im an aspiring journalist after all, i cant tarnish my brand like that. _ _   
_ **_Marinette_ ** _ : Youve been calling it gossip this entire conversation _

**_Alya_ ** _ : girl. _

**_Alya:_ ** _ thats a secret between us _ _   
_ **_Alya_ ** _ : call it what you want. im not here to ruin lives, just investigate them. If you murder your wife then i think i have the right to call you out on it _

**_Alya_ ** _ : btw do you think adrien was involved in his mothers murder? _

**_Marinette:_ ** _ ALYA _ _   
_ **_Alya_ ** _ : its a theory _

**_Marinette_ ** _ : No one murdered anyone _

**_Alya:_ ** _ marinette… HES DATING CHLOÉ! _ _   
_ **_Marinette_ ** _ : >>>:-/ _

**_Alya_ ** _ : girl im kidding.  _

**_Alya:_ ** _ you know i wouldnt spread rumours, im not an animal. the whole chloé things just getting under my skin. no one fucks with my girl without a fight >: ) ilu hardcore marinette dupain-cheng <3 _

**_Marinette_ ** _ : ilusm Alya Césaire <3 _


	4. Escape

The streets of Paris reflected the cloudy sky within its puddles, or that's what he saw from the windows of his home. Once the trickling of rain had begun, Adrien knew autumn was officially here. He sat at the long dining table, jabbing his food with his fork, he hadn't felt the rain in so long, he almost missed the feeling of wet socks in his shoes. Keyword being 'almost'.

 

"Adrien, you know better than to play with your food." Nathalie scolded in her monotone voice. Adrien let the fork go, clinking against the plate with an echo through the large room. He huffed, pressing his cheek to rest firmly against his fist. He eyed over toward Nathalie who stood firmly by the door, hands behind her back. "Isn't the rain lovely?" She asked, barely looking in his direction.

"I wouldn't know." His voice snark.

 

Adrien stared at his plate, focusing on the divots on a single pea to ignore the itch of his shirt. It was new and its seams itched like hell but he knew once he'd start scratching Nathalie would scold him once more. "Will father be down for dinner or am I wasting my time waiting for him?"

"Your father has a busy schedule. I'm sure you can eat without him."

"When don't I eat without him?" Adrien began to lightly scratch his wrist. "If he won't come to dinner then why should I?"

Nathalie fixed her tie, the red stood out nicely atop the black of her designer Agreste suit. "Adrien, you're a growing boy. You need to eat."

"I thought father was tired of me growing. Maybe if I stopped he'd actually want to see me."

Nathalie's eyes met his and her face distorted slightly in an expression Adrien could only assume was her own form of concern. Adrien wondered if she was even ok with this arrangement, she was doing her job and was paid well but unless she were a robot, it was unlikely for her to feel nothing at all. "Adrien, that's not how life works. You need to eat your dinner." Her tone changed ever so slightly, had her voice not been the only voice Adrien heard daily, he wouldn't have picked it up. He scratched his arm harder, almost frustrated with the shirt. Or maybe taking out his already existing frustration on the shirt, he wasn't sure yet. Most likely both.

"Adrien, stop that." Her eyes crowned upon his arms. He instantly stopped and stared back at her, his jaw clenched.

 

"How are you ok with this?"

Nathalie stood silently, turning her head away to watch the rain pour outside.

"You can't keep ignoring me. I want to go out."

"Adrien, it's raining. You'll catch a cold."

Adrien pulled at his sleeves, he wanted to rip his shirt off. "I'm homeschooled Nathalie, it's not like catching a cold will interfere with my studies." His voice was almost desperate "Just a walk around the block, a short walk."

"Not without a bodyguard."

Even if G was here, Adrien was certain that even the shortest walk would be out of the question. "You can come with me. We could make it a trip."

Nathalie pressed her lips together as though she were considering the offer. She opened her mouth then closed it again, her nostrils let out a heavy breath of air. "Its raining Adrien."

 

Adrien stood up and threw his napkin at the table, his chair scraped loudly against the floor. "I'm exhausted, I can't eat anymore."

Nathalie nodded with an unspoken understanding. Her eyes sorrowful as though she were apologising for the little she could do for him. Adrien wanted to ask why she hadn't knocked some sense into his father yet, why she still worked for the man, why she allowed him to turn her into a babysitter. He wanted to ask her if his father even cared for him anymore. However, Adrien didn't do that. Instead, he pressed his mouth shut and silently walked past her, neither party exchanged a single word despite how bad Adrien wanted to and how much he suspected Nathalie was holding back her own say on the matter. Another perfect dinner at the Agreste house, teen vogue would be proud.

 

Adrien ripped off his shirt and scratched his arms for a moment. Free from the restraints of whatever the hell he was wearing, after that terrible experience he didn't care what brand it was, as far as he knew it wasn't even a shirt anymore. He let out a sigh of relief as he watched the rain pour over paris, pulling a cotton shirt over his head. Had he not already tried it before, he would have considered making a run for it. Heck, even with the failed attempt he still thought about it and now more than ever he wanted to run in the rain, splash in the puddles and scream past the clouds to the expansive universe, so loud that the angels would cheer for his great freedom. It was dramatic but nothing sounded more empowering than angels cheering him on.

 

His phone buzzed, it was Chloé. He thought back on his day and frowned. Adrien loved Chloé, she could be overwhelming, vain and pushy at times but he still loved her dearly. However, even with that love and his hope to have trust in her, his talk with Marinette left a taste in his mouth that he couldn't recognise but he knew he didn't like it. He stared at the caller ID and held his breath until Chloé's glossy lipped smile disappeared. He'd say Chloé was the last person he wanted to talk to about how he was feeling, but she was also the only person he could talk to. The thought was upsetting but that was his reality.

 

The rain dripped slowly, then stopped. Adrien jumped as a figure in his window caught his eye. The ginger cat stood delicately over the small balcony, its blue eyes so deep it reminded Adrien of his visits to the pool as a child. He ran over, sliding his window open with a thud. Adrien was not letting the cat escape this time, not without letting him pet it at least once.

 

The cat flinched at the sound, then as though recognising Adrien as less than a threat, it began to groom its paws. Adrien watched the cat, its fur was wet and he wondered if it had a home or if it was it cold. He searched his person for something to grab the cat's attention, though his own frantic movement seemed to do the trick on its own. The cats eyes focused on him, making its way closer. Somehow it only just occurred to Adrien that the cat could be dangerous, but he'd already committed. He closed his eyes tightly, reached out his hand and… 

 

"oh" he opened his eyes one at a time with a blink, the cat stood still and his hand was placed firmly on its little wet head. He began to laugh, realising he needed to actually stroke the cat for it to enjoy the experience as much as his laugh made it sound like he did. He stroked his thumb over its forehead then began scratching behind its ears, its fur was soft and its body was nimble and delicate under his touch. "Hey buddy" he began, "does that feel good?" His voice spoke as though the cat were a baby, stroking its fur as he happily listened to its pur.

 

Adrien spoke a few words to the cat as he brushed his fingers over its ginger coat, asking questions he knew it couldn't answer. The cats ears perked up, "What do you hear?" Adrien asked. The cat flicked its tail and jumped into a bolt, skittering its paws on his bedroom floor. Adrien blinked then blinked again as though in a daze, watching the cat scurry around his room.

 

The cat ran through his bedroom door, Adrien had no clue it was even open. "Shit" he tripped over the rug, caught himself and slid across the floor toward the hallway. If his dad saw a cat in the house he'd be mortified. He slammed his arms into the wall, darting his eyes to each side of the room, neither way showed any path from a cat on the loose.

 

"What the fuck?!" Adrien had never heard Nathalie swear before, the tone caught him off guard. The cat! she saw the cat! He ran toward her voice, grabbing the door frame to hold his balance. "Nathalie! Get the cat!"

Nathalie stood as still as a statue, her eyes glued onto the cat and her hands full of Gabriel's portfolio work. "Explain..  _ this _ ."

Adrien stumbled in, attempting to grab the cat. "Don't worry it's under contro-" his feet slid, banging into the portrait of his mother. Nathalie dropped everything, running over to catch the painting. Adrien let out a gasp "it's under control."

The cat ran toward the entrance and Adrien looked up at a panicked Nathalie with the raise of his brow, she was completely off her game. The cat needed out, and so did he. He quickly ran to the intercom by Nathalie's desk, slamming the button for the front gate.

Nathalie placed the portrait down, "Adrien, don't."

"I'm getting the cat!" he yelled, running at full speed toward the cat, jumping over and pushing a couch in Nathalie's way. He snatched his sneakers by the door and opened it for him and the cats escape.

Nathalie repositioned the chair out of her way "your father will be furious!"

"I told you, I'm just getting rid of the cat!" he let out a laugh, picking the cat up into a hold similar to an infant, he bounced it into his embrace. It's legs sat high in the air and Its eyes wide with confusion amongst all the chaos.

Adrien knew his goal. The gate, just get to the gate.

 

Nathalie slammed her hand on the button by her desk, the gate rolling itself shut. Adrien held his breath and bolted as fast as his aching legs would allow, sucking in his gut as he slid past the closing entrance.

Nathalie ran out "Adrien, come here right now!" The panic in her voice was unrecognisable. Adrenaline pumped through Adrien's veins, his laugh growing like he didn't know how else to respond to what he'd done. He took a step back as Nathalie approached "just a walk around the block" he repeated his words from dinner.

 

Nathalie's chest rose and she brushed her hair behind her ear. Taking another step toward the gate, her heels clacked against the brick path and Adrien's heart raced faster with the approaching sound.

"Ill get rid of the cat and I'll be back before you know it. Just a short walk." He continued pacing backward, sneakers in his hand and the cat in the other. Its paws began to dig into his arm. "Please Nathalie. I'll be right back. Don't tell my father." Adrien begged as he took another step backward and another whilst keeping her in his view then he shuffled himself to make a run for it.

 

Her voice called in the distance, past anything that Adrien could care to hear and his wet socks hurried down the street. He felt a chuckle develop within his chest, or perhaps he wanted to cry. The cold parisian air hitting his face as he refused to look back. Adrien's lip twitched and he let out an explosion of manic laughter. "Holy shit!" He chuckled, allowing himself to run until he felt a safe distance

 

Adrien sat on a bench, letting the cat go to his side. The cat bolted the moment its paws made contact with the seating but Adrien couldn't blame it for being terrified. A crazy kid grabs you and laughs like a maniac, yea, he'd run too. Adrien noticed his own bleeding arm, realising he musnt of felt it through the ruckus and put his sneakers on. He wished he didn't jynx himself earlier with the thought of wet socks. No matter what freedom tasted like, wet Calvin Klein socks were not at all ideal. Adrien thought about that for a moment, he really lived the life of a brand endorsement, wow. He scrunched up his nose and slapped his cheeks, he didn't want to go down that train of thought right now. He wanted to be a normal parisian kid and for the moment, he would be a normal parisian kid. A droplet of water hit his arm, then another. Yes, a normal parisian kid that decided to walk in the rain wearing a short sleeved top and no umbrella. He pulled at his face with a groan, he didn't think this through. Adrien's phone vibrated in his pocket, the message stared at him brightly. 

 

**_Nathalie_ ** _ : I won't tell your father but you must never pull a prank like that again unless you want G on your back at all times. This is the one and only time I will let such an event slide. You are to be in bed by 10 and I expect to see your face before then ready to apologise. You're smarter than this and I'm deeply disappointed in you. I'm not your mother and never intended to be but its my job to remind you that your actions have consequences and I will have to scold you. Enjoy your walk and stay out of the rain. _

 

  * __N__



 

  
  
  
  


Marinette’s delicate fingers wrapped around the handle of the umbrella, her pink painted nails matching perfectly to the ribbons holding up her pigtails. She felt it best to hold the umbrella open now, before the weather grew any worse. Marinette heard once upon a time to never use an umbrella in the Parisian rain, though she couldn't for the life of her recall where she'd heard it, nor could she disagree more. Marinette liked to think of herself as prepared for anything and always tried her best to stay one step ahead. With her luck, it almost felt like the world was out to get her. The umbrella was cheap, but compact. The type she could fold up and carry everywhere but was also destined to break after one too many strong gusts of wind.

 

She prayed to god this one would last her until she reached Alya's apartment. The last thing she wanted was to be dragged down the street by an inside out umbrella, maybe even bump into someone from class.  _ How embarrassing _ she thought, the image of her classmates laughing at her, the faces flashing through her mind then finally landing on Chloé.  _ Of course I'd bump into Chloé.  _ Marinette sighed, _ She'd tell everyone what I klutz I am and that somehow my umbrella ruined her clothes, possibly her life, then she'd ship me over seas and I'd spend the rest of my life working in a factory. _

 

Marinette shook her head, maybe she was getting carried away with herself. She'd barely had the right to say it was raining at all, just a few sprinkling droplets here and there and she was already imagining the cheap umbrella somehow getting her deported. Her maman told her she worried too much, but she couldn't help it. When you've got two left feet like Marinette, anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. She'd rather expect the worst and be surprised by the outcome than expect the best and be disappointed. It's not that she was a negative person, more that she preferred to be surprised by the unexpected.

 

Marinette decided to take the long walk to Alya's home, her maman insisted she'd take the bus but something about the rain in Paris attracted something deep within Marinette and cheered her up instantly. Maybe it was the thought of the quaint little fleuriste by the corner of the arrondissement and its blooming flowers feeding off of the rain, or how the streets had become less rowdy as film quoting tourists found their way indoors, or perhaps it was the faint but sweet smell of the chestnut trees in the air. She couldn't recall exactly, just that her home really and truly was the city of love, or rather, it was her home and thus, the city that  _ she _ loved.

 

Marinette's moment of tranquility was shattered as she fell forward in a shocked scream, a bright hawaiian shirt being the last thing she saw before she caught herself. "Out of the way" an aged voice exclaimed, flip flops squeaking. "It's happening!"

Marinette steadied her balance and looked up at the rude old man. He almost looked like he could be her grandpa, though she only ever recalled photos of him in traditional garments, never an eye straining floral print shirt and cargo shorts. "Sir, what's happening?"

The man threw his cane up in the air,  _ did he even need it? _ "The cats are mad!"

 

A rumble in the distance grew louder, Marinette wondered if it was thunder, but the longer the sound rawred and the closer it grew, it sounded less like thunder and more like… the sound of paws running? Marinette turned around, her eyes wide. She couldn't believe it, cats, everywhere. A wave of them running from every direction. The man beside her began to laugh mockingly "Mangy cats, they'll never get it." He placed his hands around his mouth and began to yell in a squat. "You hear that? You'll never get it, rings mine and will always be mine. Give up!" The man was crazy, he was insane. He looked at Marinette and smiled wide, her polite nature couldn't help but smile back, though awkwardly and also still incredibly shocked. Perhaps even terrified by the growing number of cats surrounding them. "Come come" he waved his hand, then grabbed Marinette by the arm. "No one not safe here. The cats my child, the cats want to skin me alive."

Marinette gulped, she wanted to pull back from his grasp but how could she not obey after hearing such a remark. "SKIN YOU?"

"Perhaps, I'm not entirely sure anymore. But we can't stand around and find out." The two ran down the street toward the Opéra.    
  
“Sorry young one, you should not be involved.” He dragged Marinette by her arm. “Though I can’t let them get you, no, that would go against my morals.”   
“Why would they want me?” Marinette finally asked after her panicked silence.   
“Not you my child, the ring.” He reached under the collar of his shirt, pulling out a silver ring hanging from a chain. “Does everyone in your Generation have to be so vain, it doesn't always about you.” Had they not been chased by a sea of cats, Marinette would have stuck with her earlier conclusion that the man was crazy. “Sir?”   
“Master” He corrected her. “I am Master Fu.”   
Maybe he was still crazy, just coincidentally a crazy man in a crazy circumstance. “Master Fu, why would every cat in Paris want a ring?”   
“The ring is ancient and we’ll leave it at that.” He frowned, grey eyebrows that Marinette thought definitely needed a groom.   
“So, what do we do?”   
He hushed her, pulling her behind a small shop. “Wait until the spirit stops howling.”   
_ The spirit stops-?  _ Marinette held her face in the palms of her hands. What the hell was she doing?

 

They sat silently, Fu looked down to embrace the ring in his hand, then yelled, causing Marinette to jump. “What did you do with it?”   
Marinette screamed, “What? What did I do with what!?”   
“The ring” He tugged at her shirt, opened her palms then pulled her pigtail down to his height and looked in her ear as though he’d find something. “You took it, give it back!” He opened her mouth and looked inside with one open eye, to which she pushed him away. “I don’t have your ring, I don’t want to be chased by cats!” She fixed her pigtail “Why would I take your ring? You probably dropped it earlier.”   
Fu pondered, “No that can’t be right, you stole it.”   
Marinette fumbled around, pulling out her pockets “See, no ring. Master, I’m sorry but I really think you dropped it.”   
“Not good.” He peeked out from behind the building, the rain falling heavier than before. “I can’t let them have it, do you know what danger we’re in?”   
Marinette shrugged. “No.. not really.”   
“Of course not you stupid child.” He searched his person then pulled out an old business card, it's corners folded and the image faded. “Take, take. If you find it give it to me. Do not put it on! Remember, this is a serious matter, do not put on the ring.” He tapped at the card in her hands “Come to this address and give it to me.” He scrambled out from behind the building, running into the rain until his silhouette was out of Marinette’s focus. She looked down at the card “Mister Chan’s Historic Antiques?” She wondered if he even gave her the right address, not that she had any wish to find the ring or see the old man again.  Marinette pondered silently, flipping the card over a few times until she realised that the sound of parisian rain pitter pattering against concrete had returned. No more thunderous cat paws or pained meows. That man was definitely crazy, but with how fast reality went back to normal, she began to wonder if she was the one going crazy.   
  
Maybe she should have taken the bus.   
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so begins the real story


	5. An Encounter

Rain poured heavily atop the tiled roofing of the gazebo, streams of water falling down its stone pillars into puddles by its floral coated fencing. Adrien wringed out the base of his cotton shirt, staring out into the open park, grass green and empty aside from the young couple running through the rain giggling. The young woman's hair bounced as droplets lay upon her foundation, running under the cover of her partners embrace who then kissed her wet forehead. The man whispered a few words, inaudible from where Adrien stood before he witnessed the woman push the man playfully as they burst with laughter. Adrien thought about how similar it was to watching an old romance film, perhaps childhood friends to lovers? They were close but he never considered the thought of how action could indicate the length of a relationship, for all he knew they could have just met.

 

He let out an unexpected sneeze, droplets from his hair lost amongst the raindrops. He wiped his nose against his arm, unsanitary but desperate. It’s not like he didn’t already do the same at home with no one around. Though despite still being alone, now he’s the furthest he’s been from his bedroom in a long time. He was a lost boy seeking refuge in a park gazebo, drenched enough to most definitely catch a cold knowing damn well he had nowhere else to go. He checked his phone, the bars on the top corner low, he considered calling Chloé to pick him up but once again let the thought pass. How pathetic for him to have no one to contact for help, maybe freedom wasn’t as great as he thought it could be, that he was fighting in a war that he’d already lost and it was time to pack up and send his troops back home. 

 

Adrien hadn’t noticed how long he’d been blankly staring at the couple in the distance, his lips drooped low on his face as he gazed off. He blinked a few times to come back to the reality of him being soaking wet in the middle of god knows where without a GPS to help him find out. He considered asking the couple but felt a little odd after staring at them for so long. Almost rude to interrupt their romantic evening of catching a cold together, maybe if he made a run for it toward the west of the city he’d find somewhere warm to dry off and get a snack.

 

From under his feet, Adrien could feel a tremble, perhaps vitiligo had struck him and he was growing sick. He leaned against the pillar beside him to regain his hold as the rumble grew strong. Perhaps an earthquake? A roar belted from the distance almost like thunder, Adrien jumped, his body loosely turning to the direction of the sound that continued to increase loudly, fur making its way toward his direction. Cats scattered through the park. In the distance Adrien could briefly make out the sound of the couple screaming to only be overpowered by the trampling sound of cats destroying everything in their path, running and howling.  _ I’m going to die _ , Adrien thought as the cats scurried past, a group weaving between his legs, he lift his leg up fast, jumping up onto the white painted fencing of the gazebo, grabbing the stone and slipping. The seat of his pants landing on the railing and lifting his sneakers into the air to get out of the cats way. Adrien's mouth dropped, eyes widely darting trying to watch every cat run by him, he was certain the world was ending and the cats were ending it. He shut his eyes tight to prepare for his impending doom, most likely the giant destructive explosion of their universe, the big bang that created all life deciding to also end it with of all things, the feline kind.

 

Clink, amongst the howling and patting of paws Adrien’s ears picked up the sound of something else, something as clear as bells chiming through a crowded mall at Christmas. The world felt silent and the echo of that clear sound rang through his mind. Adrien opened his eyes from their tight hold, the wave of cats blurred and through the mass of fur, something sparkled, calling to him. He slowly dipped his toes amongst the ocean of cats who obeyed to his movement, allowing room in their stream for him to continue forward, reaching down to grasp what continued to ring the song in his ears. His fingers wrapping around the object and he could no longer hear it’s ringing chime. Vibrations made their way from his touch, up and out of his body, tingling down his spine and suddenly a loud painful screech burst through his eardrums. Like an explosion, the cats scattered in all directions, pushing and shoving around Adrien who in a fall to the concrete brought his hands tightly against his chest attempting to shield himself from the stampede crawling over and around him, little paws scampering by his ears.

 

Silence found its way back like the world was no more, perhaps he’d gone deaf, worst case he was dead. He’d almost believed it too, that he of all people was trampled to death by cats, how absolutely pathetic. Adrian's nails dug into his palms to remind him of his being, the object pressing deep into his grip. He opened his eyes to find himself alive and unhurt aside from the scratch still as clear and part of his being as the shirt on his back, blood hardened from earlier. He sneezed once, shaking his head then sneezing again two more times, fur covering his body and sticking to his face. Maybe his shirt wasn’t as clear as he thought, for all he knew the fabric on his back could be entirely cat fur.

 

Through feverish eyes watering he slowly brought his body up and allowed his gaze to lower into his grasp to view what appeared to be a ring with Jade jewels over its exterior. He sneezed once more as he quickly looked around, clumsily toppling over himself to see if any cats were still nearby. He’d be lying to say he wasn’t shaken up by the whole event. The park was barren, rain dripping into grassy puddles that grew to mud as birds flew overhead to seek shelter. If it weren’t for the fur covering his body, Adrien would have thought it a dream, that’s he’d passed out in a park and woke up from a cold induced nightmare.

 

The metal of the ring was cold to his touch, on further inspection it looked old, a masculine fit but still with an old time elegance. The gems reflected light into beautiful green patterns. Perhaps, Adrien thought, it could be lost, it looked old enough but well looked after to be a family heirloom, something important, he doubted highly for it to be fake. Not that he was a professional with Jewelry, quite the opposite, rather that he’d worn enough to know the weight of plastic compared to the real thing. Plus, he saw Flushed Away once, he knew only fake jewels shattered and this ring looked too indestructible to break in such a sense. He’d say someone would pay quite the fortune for the ring, Audrey Bourgeois would have simply died over it during her Jade phase and Chloé would have begged for ten, one foreach finger and her father would ensure she’d have just that, a jade encrusted ring on every one of her daintily manicured fingers. Though the ring was quite masculine, and the colours were not really on brand for Chloé, something she’d be obsessed with for a week before then forgetting about it as though it never were that important to begin with. Jade is the past, it’s sandstone that’s in now, Adrien could hear her voice mocking him for expectedly being unable to keep up with her ever changing taste in Jewellery.

 

Adrien thought about placing the ring in his pocket but it seemed wrong, like he’d more likely lose it or forget about it there. Something deep inside of him truly believed he’d find whoever it belonged to and give it back, an even deeper part of him liked the design and wanted to look at it for a little longer. As result he thought best to keep it in sight, placing it on his ring finger where it fit almost too perfectly down to his knuckle. He hummed in thought, opening his hand out wide before his face to inspect the jewel. He kind of did like the ring, he'd never considered himself the type to like jewellery on his person but perhaps now he was beginning to consider getting his own ring, it just felt right. 

 

Amongst the rain and the realization that it wouldn't end anytime soon, Adrien made a run for it to the subway. It was time to swallow his pride and apologise, as much as he dreaded the idea. A map of the city through subway lines scrawled across the wall, though admittedly he'd never taken public transport before and the multiple lines confused hin at first. The key on the lower corner colour coding the lines and once finding the big red dot displaying the station he was in he had a better idea of where he was. As far as Adrien could tell, he was only 3 stops away from his home.  _ Not too bad Agreste _ he complimented himself, public transport was a piece of cake, easy and simple. Why'd he ever think it would be difficult, the map practically speaks for itself. He's got this in the bag, or so he thought until "What the hell is that?" He spits, looking at the machine in front of him. "Ticket?" He read across its screen. A ticket?

 

A woman pushes him to the side, droplets of water puddling from his feet slipping him as  a group of students impatiently waiting cut in from behind him. Adrien, now aware of his surroundings, balances himself to the side to observe the cards swiping the censor and the younger students inserting their tickets. Where the hell would he get a ticket? He didn't bring a cent. Adrien huffs, collapsing on the closest bench, he gave up. At least now he knew where he was, his house was three stops away and it wasn't too far a walk. He took a photo of the map with his phone, once the rain let up he'd make his way back.

 

"Dude, are you alright?"

Adrien looked up to his left, a teenage boy sat beside him, loud beats vibrating from his headphones. The boy departs them from his ears, his eyes quickly darting up to the wall behind Adrien then back down to him. "Lost?"

Adrien turns to look behind him, his own face staring back at him in an advertisement for his perfume. He laughs awkwardly, uncomfortable with the encounter "maybe a little."

"Need me to call someone?" The boy asks.

Adrien waves his hands laughing "no, no…" he sighs "there's no one you can call…"

"Not even a friend?" Adrien shrugs a silent response. The kid brings out his hand to shake Adrien's. "Well, I'm Nino and I think it's time for you to make some  _ new _ friends, dude."


End file.
